


On a Wing and a Prayer

by lucyrne (theungenue)



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Auctions, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, First Kiss, Hopeful Ending, Minor Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Prayer, Spoilers of Last Flight, The Black Emporium Exchange, Warden Bethany Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26216764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theungenue/pseuds/lucyrne
Summary: Prince Sebastian Vael is not prone to self-indulgence, but even he cannot resist when a genuine griffon egg is to be auctioned off to the highest bidder in Val Royeaux. When he runs into Bethany Hawke at the auction house, he learns that a greater scheme is underway—and the Wardens need his help to secure the egg.
Relationships: Bethany Hawke/Sebastian Vael
Comments: 14
Kudos: 14
Collections: Black Emporium 2020





	On a Wing and a Prayer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suchanadorer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/gifts).



> This fic has some light spoilers for "Last Flight." However, you don't need to read the book to understand or enjoy my story. I hope you enjoy your gift - it was a blast to write :D
> 
> Shout out to my beta hollyand-writes for her advice and encouragement!

“Take to the skies on your own bonafide griffon! That’s right, the legendary beast unseen since the Exalted Age! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to hatch a piece of history, raise it in your own stable, and become its master. Bidding on the egg starts at 100,000 gold sovereigns!”

The Summer Bazaar was abuzz with the news. A griffon egg, the first found since the species went extinct centuries ago! As men posted outside the auction house shouted about the upcoming sale, quite a crowd of curious shoppers and passersby gathered at the front gate, eager to glimpse the fabled egg themselves.

Among them was Prince Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven.

As far as the public knew, Sebastian was in Orlais for diplomatic reasons. To confer with the Divine, or meet with the Empress. Not bid on a griffon egg. That would be irresponsible, or worse, indulgent. Maybe in his wild youth spending a large sum on a myth would be acceptable, but Sebastian hadn’t been that man for many years, and he had no intention of changing that over a single extravagance.

Still, there could be no harm in _looking_ at the egg. Grey Wardens once rode their mighty griffons into battle, waging war upon darkspawn from the skies. Sebastian wished he could’ve seen it; fully armored griffons soaring through the clouds, diving at breakneck speed and decimating entire regiments of enemies while their Grey Warden riders shot arrows and slung spells. Hero and steed in perfect harmony. His own ancestor Amadis Vael had famously ridden a griffon, both inspiring her troops and demoralizing her enemies. It must have been a sight to behold.

Sebastian quietly calculated the impact of a 100,000 gold purchase on Starkhaven’s coffers _._ The answer had not changed since the last three times he did this mental arithmetic. Was that a good or bad thing?

“Serrah.”

Sebastian stilled. His pulse jumped for joy in his throat. That voice! It couldn’t be...could it? That sweet voice had echoed across his dreams and memories, a tantalizing ‘what if’ sitting dormant in the back of his mind across the years. He turned, a burst of happiness unfurling its wings and taking to the air when he realized the voice belonged to exactly who he hoped it did.

“Sebastian,” Bethany Hawke said. She lifted her chin, exposing an elegant neck hidden beneath her hat and other accessories. “It’s so good to see you.”

She wore an elaborate gown with a dark leather bodice closely fitted to her torso and a wide hooped skirt that just brushed against the ground. The brim of her hat jutted upwards at a sharp angle on one side, and several tan feathers adorned the crown in a fluffy plume. Bethany Hawke appeared the perfect Orlesian. Of course, there was far more to her beneath the silk fabric and hat.

“The Grey Wardens have updated their uniforms since I saw you last,” Sebastian said.

Bethany brought a gloved finger to her lips. “Not a Warden today.”

She offered Sebastian her arm, and he happily took it.

Sebastian felt glad for this surprise reunion. Theirs was a missed connection, an unfinished flirtation that sparked anew whenever they met again, but vexingly never found fulfillment. Sebastian’s vows, Bethany’s calling. There was always something pulling them apart. To find her here during an impromptu visit to Orlais, to gawk at a griffon egg no less, was an incredibly happy coincidence. Perhaps the Maker’s hand had pushed their paths together again.

They strolled around the Summer Bazaar’s glittering boulevard. Rather than catching up or exchanging pleasantries, however, Bethany launched into an incredible story ripped from Vael family legend.

The Wardens had discovered an entire nest of griffon eggs, suspended in time for hundreds of years! They had since worked in secret to breed the species back to its former glory and rebuild their old eyries. Still, there were few precious griffon eggs to go around, and each one had to be treasured. Protected.

“Someone stole an egg from us,” Bethany said, her sweet voice growing as dark as the Black City. “I’m trying to get it back, but my mission’s become...complicated now that it’s for sale. At such a high price, too.”

“Why don’t the Wardens just seize the egg?”

With her other hand, Bethany unfurled a deep red pleated fan and partially hid her face. “Like I said, it’s complicated. We need to secure it quickly and _quietly._ Leave nothing to chance. That’s why I need your help, Sebastian.”

Sebastian arched an eyebrow. “An undercover operation to secure a griffon egg on behalf of the Grey Wardens? When I befriended you and Hawke, this is exactly what I signed up for.”

* * *

They filed into the auction house, shuffling alongside merchants and nobles as they passed priceless weapons, historical artifacts, and portraits in richly carved, gilded frames. Everything was either for sale or recently sold. The crowd reached a central, curved chamber with a raised podium looming over several rows of benches. It had no windows save for a domed glass skylight shedding bright beams of light down into the room.

Sebastian squinted up at the skylight, then surveyed the spectators finding seats around him. So many people, so much chatter in different languages, so much coin jingling in their purses. He had expected a more intimate affair given the high starting bid, but it appeared that every man and woman of wealth on this side of the Waking Sea had come. Was this high turnout typical? This was the first auction Sebastian had ever attended, so he hadn’t a clue.

Bethany’s plan was for Sebastian to outbid the room for the egg, which he would then promptly return to the Grey Wardens. Repayment for his expenses would be settled afterwards. With a faint blush, Bethany explained that Sebastian was not the only wealthy friend she had asked for help. A couple other bidders agreed to help her purchase the egg—both with some familiar names.

“Since King Alistair is a Warden, he promised to bid on my behalf,” Bethany said, coolly eyeing the growing crowd. “It didn’t take much convincing to get Varric onboard. He calls dwarven auctioneering the Chant of business.”

“Varric’s here?” Sebastian craned his neck to search the room. “I’ve been meaning to speak with him. He’s terrible at answering his letters.” Finally spotting his old dwarf friend across the room, unhappily surrounded by a gaggle of Orlesians, he moved to join him.

However, Bethany stopped Sebastian with a firm touch on his arm. “Multiple people bidding on the same thing to influence an auction is, um, a _touch_ illegal,” she said sheepishly. “Best if the three of you stay separated. That is, if you’re willing to help me.”

Sebastian idly wondered if there was more to auctions than offering a lot of money, but the thought left him as he regarded Bethany’s expression, a contradiction of sweetness and hardened focus. This was no light request. Retrieving that egg must be incredibly important if so many were willing to risk coin and character for it. When she noticed him staring, she gasped softly and unfurled her fan to hide her deepening complexion.

“Only you could convince three different heads of state to commit a crime together,” Sebastian said.

Though obscured by her crimson fan, Bethany’s smile shone through her brown eyes. She disappeared into the crowd, leaving Sebastian alone to find his seat.

As bidders settled, a dwarven man in a snappy waistcoat and jacket ascended the center podium. His plump face widened at the jowls, his salt and pepper hair slicked back tight against his skull, and the tips of his ears drooped slightly forward. He exuded dignity with an edge of mischief, scanning the crowd with a smirk while he turned a thick wooden gavel over in his hands.

Whispers of a “Colonel” swirled in the dwarf’s wake. Sebastian surmised that this was the Merchant’s Guild member running the auction. Strange title for a merchant.

Some assistants carried a wooden crate onto a raised dais. Inside, they retrieved a speckled, olive egg the size of a small dog and carefully set it down upon a pedestal. Voices around the room hushed.

“Lights!” the Colonel commanded.

One assistant held up a large mirror to catch the sunshine streaming through the skylight, and then angled it towards the pedestal. When the beam of light shone upon the egg, it illuminated the silhouette of the creature within. Its round head had a pronounced beak, and it hunched over what appeared to be clawed legs— _four of them._ Two more shadows protruded from its back, wings that had yet to fully grow their feathers, and a tail curled along the shell’s curve.

Gasps rippled across the crowd. Any doubts as to the authenticity of the griffon egg vanished. The stray curiosity that drew most bidders into the auction house thickened into a true desire, and then, into a hunger to win.

The Colonel twirled his gavel, reveling in the audience’s amazement.

“Alright folks, the only Chant you need are the words that pass through these lips,” the Colonel said with a genial grin. “Now, now, it’s not blasphemy. Even the Divine says money will do you no good where you’re going, so you’d better spend it here today!”

While other participants murmured amongst themselves, Sebastian tried to catch Bethany’s eye again from several rows over, but she did not spot him. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the egg, so close yet still out of her grasp.

The Colonel struck his gavel against the lectern. “Look alive folks, we’re getting started!”

The dwarf began to speak in a spitfire, plummy voice:

> "Who'll give me 100,000?
> 
> 100,000 gold bid, now 110,
> 
> Now 110, will ya give me 110?
> 
> 110,000 gold bid, now 120,
> 
> 120,000 gold bid, will you give me 130?”

Sebastian blinked several times. Words glided over his head. Sentences ended before they began. Numbers gained relevance for a fraction of a second before being toppled over and replaced with something newer, higher. Sebastian could just comprehend the number of the latest bid before the Colonel’s nimble tongue left him in the dust, speeding through a new sentence that raised the stakes even closer to the clouds.

“Two hundred thousand! We have 200,000! Who will give me 210?”

 _Two hundred thousand!_ Already?! The egg’s price had doubled in a blink of an eye, and Sebastian hadn’t even placed his first bid. Since when had shopping become so competitive, so _frantic?_

Other buyers followed the Colonel’s tongue-twisty pace easily, raising their hands to place their bids, sometimes even shouting out a new number. One Orlesian gentleman in an owl-shaped mask placed a 300,000 gold bid, increasing the price by almost half!

A few buyers grumbled and turned their backs to leave the auction, priced out of their prize—including King Alistair. Though reputed to be an easy-going, often silly man, Alistair Theirin was a responsible ruler who would not stretch his coffers beyond their limits. It was up to Sebastian and Varric to win the egg now.

The Colonel continued his neverending chatter. Sebastian’s hand shot up. Wherever the bidding was now, he had to do _something._

“Three hundred and twenty!” The Colonel called, bobbing his head to acknowledge Sebastian. “Do I have 330?”

“Three hundred and twenty-one,” the Orlesian in the owl-shaped mask said.

“Three hundred and twenty- _one_ thousand!”

 _Andraste’s flames,_ what was going on? There was a bigger game afoot here, but Sebastian didn’t know the rules, he had no strategy, no plan. Just a heartbeat quickening to match the Colonel’s mesmerizing rhythm and a treasury whose budget became hazy and distant, like a half-forgotten dream.

“Four hundred!” Sebastian called.

“Four hundred and ten!” someone else said almost immediately.

He swallowed a few unkind words, then raised his hand to bid once more.

As adrenaline piped hot in Sebastian’s blood, the room itself sank into a swelter. Too many extravagantly dressed bodies packed together while the noonday sun shone relentlessly upon them through the skylight. Ladies deployed their fans with vigor. Wigs and plumed hats deflated. Sweat beaded along Sebastian’s hairline, though he remained too transfixed on the Colonel to take much notice.

Bidding exceeded 500,000 gold, then 550,000, then 600,000. Everytime it appeared either Sebastian or Varric’s bid would come out on top, someone else would snatch their victory away. That Orlesian in the owl mask in particular seemed bent on outbidding the competition, just barely smothering a smug grin before raising the price by as little as one hundred sovereigns just to edge out other buyers.

When the griffon egg’s price reached a new height, however, opposing buyers became few and far between.

> “Dig deeper in your pockets ladies and gents!
> 
> Do I have 800,000?
> 
> Now 800,000, go 820,000.”
> 
> 800, we’ve got 800, gimme 820.
> 
> Come on, it’s only money, friends.”

The bidding stumbled like an animal shot through the knee. Few people in Thedas could envision that amount of gold, and fewer yet possessed that much in spending money. More buyers grumbled and withdrew. Even Varric dropped out, throwing up his hands in defeat. Bethany only had one person to rely on now.

Sebastian’s growing appetite for victory quieted as he searched the room for her face. Several chairs to his left, Bethany stared towards the podium, her whole body wound tight like a spring. Her gloves hands clutched her fan tight enough to wring the life out of it. Someone made another gargantuan bid, and she winced as if struck across the face.

Sebastian could practically see the hopeful light dim in her eyes, the confidence she had shown him earlier withering away as her mission inched closer to failure. If that happened and they parted ways, their missed connection would fizzle out again, likely to never spark anew.

_No._

The Grey Wardens needed this egg in their fight against the darkspawn. Sebastian couldn’t stand by as a posh Orlesian added it to their private collection to keep as an exotic pet. More importantly, Bethany needed this—no, she needed _him._ She may have asked other friends for help, but now that they were gone it was purely up to Sebastian to see this through. Sebastian, who had often wracked his brains for reasons to see Bethany again, any excuse at all for their winding paths to briefly connect, only to have one dropped in his lap without warning. Andraste’s grace in motion.

Sebastian never denied the will of providence when he saw its signs, no matter the risks, and he wouldn’t start now.

“Eight forty,” Sebastian said.

Owl-mask instantly piped up, “Eight forty-five.”

As they embarked on this strange duel, both visibly sweating from the unbearable heat and pressure, Sebastian’s senses blurred. The Colonel’s hypnotizing words swirled in his mind until they became the only chant he had ever known. The dwarf said a new number, Sebastian raised his hand. He hardly registered his own actions, hardly even _thought._

When the final bid was made, it took a moment for Sebastian to recognize it as his own.

“One million.”

Never before had so many Orlesians choked on their tongues at the same time. After some sustained silence, the Colonel’s gavel signaled the end. Joy flooded his senses as the auctioneer made it official—the griffon egg would sell to the Prince of Starkhaven for one million sovereigns!

Sebastian panted and ached like he had just swam the Minanter River thrice over. Utter strangers clapped him on the back and shook his hand while he caught his breath, the thrill of victory dissipating into giddy exhaustion. Owl-Mask personally congratulated him on a bid well done, swallowing a sneer before vanishing. Whatever that was about, Sebastian couldn’t be arsed to care; a whole room of wealthy bidders, and he won! _They_ won!

“Sebastian!”

As if Sebastian was not already drunk enough on euphoria, Bethany appeared. However, while he wore a delirious grin, her happiness looked plastered on, cracked.

“How much gold did you say?” Bethany asked, her voice jumping to a high note at the end. “I must have misheard—”

The Colonel struck the lectern with his gavel again. “Doesn’t good business make for great entertainment!” he exclaimed. “My staff will prepare your prize. Follow them into the back so we can handle the financials.”

Some servants replaced the egg in its box and carted it away to a backroom. Another servant appeared at Sebastian’s side to usher him away to discuss payment.

As he entered the back room beyond a thick curtain, the Colonel’s continued crowing grew muffled and dull.

“Next up, Brother Genitivi’s pleated underfrock, monogrammed, never worn. Starting at 5,000 gold. Five thousand, will you give me 5,000?”

* * *

“Maker’s breath, I’ve bankrupted Starkhaven!”

Bethany rushed inside the hotel suite, wringing her hands and shaking her head. The door nearly swung closed before Sebastian shouldered his way through, carrying a large wooden crate in his arms.

“I promise you that isn’t the case,” Sebastian replied with a chuckle.

“One million gold is no laughing matter, Sebastian!”

“The Vaels have hoarded our wealth for centuries. It’s past time we shared with those who deserve it, like the Grey Wardens.”

Sebastian felt astonishingly at peace with the auction’s result. The Colonel was right, riches would not follow him to the Maker’s side. What was money for anyway if not to spend supporting a good cause? Or to support the people important to him? Bethany—the Grey Wardens—selflessly protected Thedas against unimaginable horrors. She—they—needed the egg to rebuild the griffons, which would defend the world from the Blight for generations to come. It could not possibly be frivolous or indulgent to support her—their—mission.

His resolve only wavered because Bethany herself seemed convinced he made a massive mistake. She had begun to unravel while Sebastian signed the necessary paperwork at the auction house, her anxious questions and muttering reaching a crescendo of panic by the time they made it back to the hotel. Now that they were here, Bethany wasn’t even interested in looking at the egg they had fought so hard to retrieve.

Sebastian set the crate down, pointedly ignoring his hotel room’s deep emerald curtains, imported carpets, silky pillows, and other opulent details. If he had known he would be spending such a high sum when he booked his lodging—no, this wasn’t the time to doubt or regret. Sebastian ought to hold onto that triumphant feeling of coming through for Bethany when all else seemed lost. Lighter pockets hardly compared to helping someone who needed him.

Bethany tossed aside her Orlesian hat, her raven hair tumbling free. She paced before a set of curtained doors leading to the suite’s vast balcony before whirling back on Sebastian. She clasped his hands between hers and held them tightly.

“You will be repaid every single coin,” she said. “I swear it. Every single one. I’m not sure how, but I’ll find a way.”

Chin high, brown eyes ablaze, mouth pressed in determination—Sebastian had only seen Bethany appear this fierce and driven in the middle of battle. He remained a picture of calm for her sake, swallowing hard to quiet his tingling nerves and steady his weakening knees.

“I only signed a warrant of payment,” Sebastian replied. He adjusted his hands so he could squeeze hers in return. “Gold won’t change hands until the bank opens tomorrow.”

At the mention of money, Bethany dropped his hands and resumed pacing. “One _million_ gold! Oh Sebastian, nothing is worth that much. Nothing in the entire world.”

“You are.”

It came out of him without thinking, another bid for a different prize.

Bethany downright hiccuped. “Wha—oh _Maker_.” Her face reddened to match her Orelsian gown, the weathered Warden in her ebbing away as she melted into her chair. Bethany folded her restless hands in her lap and exhaled once before flashing those golden-brown eyes back his way.

“I know you do this on purpose, Sebastian,” she said, her voice softening through his name. “Always muddling me.”

Sebastian arched an eyebrow. “Why Warden Bethany, I haven’t a clue what you mean,” he replied. “Should we examine the egg?”

“Hmm? Right, of course.”

Bethany rallied while Sebastian pried the lid from the egg’s crate and peered within. Nestled in a satin cushion, the egg’s shell was glossy and butter-yellow. Sebastian opened his mouth to comment on the strange color, but thought better of it. Who was he to know what a griffon egg should or shouldn’t look like up close?

Bethany stood and beamed at him. “Let’s take a peek, shall we?”

What took a complex arrangement of lamps and mirrors for the auctioneer to accomplish, Bethany achieved with a single thought, right in the palms of her hands. Her skin glowed gold as she reached inside to gingerly lift the egg from its cushion. Her magic was always so gentle, so precise. How different would the world be if people like her had always been allowed to use their gifts for good, instead of being shackled, locked away? How much _better_ would it be if Chantry saw the same miracles Sebastian could?

Once she placed her hands upon the egg’s shell, however, Bethany paused.

“Something’s wrong,” she said. “It’s cold. It’s not supposed to be cold.”

She lifted the egg, her hands now glowing bright as a star. The shell turned translucent under the light, just as it had earlier in the auction house. Only this time, they did not see a young griffon growing inside.

The egg was hollow.

“ _No.”_ Bethany’s brow furrowed, the egg trembling in her grip. She dropped her hands and let it fall.

The egg shattered, sending a thousand pieces of porcelain scattering across the smooth floor. No one spoke. No one moved. They just stared down at the shards, a silent horror choking them from the inside out. The egg they had proudly taken home was fake. One million sovereigns, spent on a fraud.

Sebastian’s earlier bravado evaporated like the illusion it always was. One million sovereigns. One _million._ He covered his mouth, though he couldn’t summon his own voice to utter a single word. He sank into the nearest chair he could find. Andraste’s flames. His parents’ every reprimand surfaced from the depths of his memory, every time they had told him off for being wasteful, over-indulgent, excessively extravagant. That was supposed to be in the past. He was the Prince of Starkhaven, a former Chantry brother, a leader. How could he be so irresponsible?

His court would skin him alive. Prince Sebastian Vael, conned out of a million sovereigns. They’d laugh him out of the palace, divest him of all authority he had painstakingly reclaimed over the years. His reputation as a ruler, as a man, would be tarnished forever.

While Sebastian struggled to say anything, Bethany was much more incensed.

“Darkspawn bloody _shite!_ All that money and effort and _we don’t even have it_!” Bethany seethed. She couldn’t keep still, sitting, standing up again, covering her face, scraping her fingers through her hair. Every movement was an attempt to shy away from the horrid truth of it all. “Can’t go right. Bloody _nothing_ can go right! Oh Sebastian, I’m so sorry. None of this was supposed to happen.”

“Contact the Wardens,” Sebastian urged. They were the only people he could think of who might help dig him out of this immeasurable blunder. “It’s their griffon egg. They should’ve reclaimed it from the start.”

Bethany made a sound like swallowing a sob. “We can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because the Wardens don’t _know_! The egg wasn’t stolen from our eyrie, it was—” Bethany crossed her arms and looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “—stolen from my bag while I stayed the night at a tavern. My commanding officer thinks I’m on leave. They don’t know I lost the egg. They don’t even know I’m here.”

Silence reigned once more. Her words echoed in Sebastian’s thoughts in a twisted spiral. Stolen from her bag. The Wardens didn’t know. The egg was stolen and they didn’t even know. One million of Starkhaven’s gold for this egg, one million gold for _her_ , and the Wardens didn’t know...

“But if the Wardens were never involved, the auction—” Sebastian’s jaw went slack. Of course. If the Wardens had no idea the egg was gone, then they didn’t know about the auction, which explained why Bethany had panicked when she learned how dearly the egg cost him.

“How were you going to pay for this?” he asked.

“I’ll find a way,” Bethany repeated softly, though this time she didn’t sound so convinced.

“Why didn’t you say?” _Why did you lie?_

She grimaced before forcing herself to meet his deep blue gaze. Whatever her answer, Sebastian saw writ plain on her face that Bethany would never have chosen this, if she had been blessed with the ability to choose.

“Because I would be on my own if anyone knew the truth,” she said. “No kingdoms will fall if someone else hatches my bloody griffon. No lives will be lost. I didn’t believe the other Wardens or—or anyone would help if they knew the stakes were as low as...”

Though her voice trailed off, Sebastian heard crystal clear in his mind how that sentence ended— _me._

Bethany continued, “That egg was the first time the Wardens have given me something in return for my sodding sacrifice and vigilance. When it vanished, I didn’t care what it took to take back what was mine. But I never—” Her face contorted, a large tear rolling down her cheek. Bethany hurriedly wiped it away and turned so Sebastian couldn’t see. “I never thought you would get involved or that you would lose a fortune trying to help! Sebastian, _I’m so sorry!_ ”

“Bethany, I…” Sebastian wasn’t sure what to say. She had lied to him, there was no denying it. However, her mistakes mirrored too many of his own to cast quick judgement.

Sebastian had once foolishly taken matters into his own hands to right injustice. He had gone to extremes fully believing that none in Thedas would lift a finger to help him. But that hadn’t been true—Hawke, Bethany, and their friends had been there to support him through grief and retribution. The Maker had always been there, a quiet but resolute beacon guiding Sebastian’s actions forward.

Likewise, Bethany hadn’t been alone either. She just needed help seeing it, like he had years ago.

Sebastian rose from his chair and stood at his full height. She shrank away from him, doubtlessly bracing herself for a tongue-lashing worthy one million gold coins. Instead, Sebastian spoke to her in his soft brogue.

> “In the long hours of the night When hope has abandoned me,
> 
> I will see the stars and know
> 
> Your Light remains.”

Sebastian put a hand on Bethany’s shoulder and waited. The Chant always granted him comfort in great crises, but he never forced it upon others. Only invited them to partake in its compassion, should they choose to follow his lead.

Haltingly, Bethany began the next verse.

> “I have heard the sound,
> 
> A song in the stillness
> 
> The echo of Your voice,
> 
> Calling creation to wake from its slumber.”

As she spoke, Bethany turned slowly to face him, exhaling as her eyes rose to meet his. Sebastian took her hands once more, and they bowed their heads to recite the canticle together. Their words overlapped awkwardly until they caught onto the same rhythm, their voices combined as one, and their hearts swelled full with the Maker’s love and comfort.

> “I am not alone. Even
> 
> As I stumble on the path
> 
> With my eyes closed,
> 
> yet I see/The Light is here.”

The verse now complete, Bethany fell forward and threw her arms around Sebastian’s neck. He caught her in his embrace and held her tight. Even as they both stood upon the false egg’s broken pieces, a shroud of calm wrapped around Sebastian, soothing the tension knotted in his neck and brow. Everything would be alright, if they kept faith in themselves and each other.

“We can’t give up,” Sebastian said. He stroked the back of her hair, causing her to sigh with relief and nestle further into the crook of his neck. “It hasn’t been so long since the auction ended. If we go quickly, we may yet set everything right.”

Bethany pulled away and studied his face. “You really think it’s not too late?” she asked. Sebastian couldn’t tell whether or not she meant the griffon egg, but he also didn’t care.

“It never is,” he said, “and never will be.”

With that, her entire demeanor became alight with hope and energy. “You’re right,” Bethany said, grinning from ear to ear, “I won’t give up on the egg. Giving up on this dress though. I like fashion as much as anyone, but this isn’t the time for looking dainty and Orlesian.”

Sebastian chuckled. “Quite.”

* * *

The Summer Bazaar closed everyday at sundown. Once dusk fell and the glittering cobblestones went dull, few people milled about the streets, and the shops locked their doors and covered their windows into thick curtains. The auction house stood dark and quiet, with chains criss-crossed over the entryway to keep intruders from walking in the front door, and two armored guards patrolled the perimeter for good measure.

Sebastian bypassed the guards entirely by climbing onto a neighboring building and hopping onto the auction house roof. Easily done in Val Royeaux, where most buildings were attached. When Sebastian had done this sort of thing in Starkhaven as a young lad (how often was between him and Andraste), leaping from roof to roof back home had required skill and athleticism.

Bethany, now outfitted in her well-worn Warden brigandine, kept up with his quiet approach with no trouble, moving swiftly from one roof to the next with soft footsteps. She had certainly picked up a thing or two about stealth over the years with the Wardens.

They crept towards the domed skylight protruding from the roof. Sebastian put a finger to his lips and gestured for Bethany to peer through the glass.

The Colonel and Owl-Mask were in the empty auction room, laughing and chatting. They stood close together, the Orlesian draping his arm over the dwarf’s shoulders with a familiarity he hadn’t shown at the auction earlier. The auctioneer patted a crate identical to the one Sebastian had taken with him; the genuine egg must be inside.

“That man was at the auction. He’s the one who kept bidding up the price,” Sebastian whispered.

Owl-Mask removed his face covering, revealing a pair of odd eyes, one ice blue and one honey brown. Bethany gasped sharply, but neither villain took notice. No sooner had the Orlesian tossed his owl-shaped mask away than he swept the dwarf into a deep, passionate kiss. Partners in more than crime.

“I’ve seen him, too—at the tavern the night my egg was stolen! I couldn’t mistake those eyes,” Bethany said. Her hands clenched around her staff. “They’ve been working together to make fools of us both.”

Sebastian now understood the scheme fully. The Colonel had put the stolen egg up for auction while his lover stood in the audience, driving up the price with his own false bids. They had then passed a fake egg to Sebastian in order to run off with both the gold and the real egg while the prince waited in vain for his prize to hatch. They hadn’t bargained on the very Warden they had robbed methodically tracking them to Val Royeaux and doing her damnedest to reclaim her griffon. That mistake would cost them.

“The only fools I see are those who dare stand against us,” Sebastian said. “They’re unarmed and alone. A good opportunity for an ambush.”

“Does this window open?” Bethany asked.

“No. Do you want it to?”

They shared a smirk.

Sebastian kicked through the glass. The dome shattered, and as shards rained upon the auction room, both Sebastian and Bethany leapt down. Bethany twirled her staff in midair to cast a spell. Her descent came to an abrupt halt before her boots hit the ground. Sebastian broke his landing with a forward roll, easily plucking an arrow from his quiver through the motion. He let the arrow fly, pinning the Colonel to his own podium by his jacket’s shoulder pad. Sebastian shot two more arrows for good measure to ensure the dwarf couldn’t escape.

Once Bethany landed, she turned just in time to see Owl-Mask pull several throwing knives from his pocket. He threw one with a sharp flick. With a simple roll of her shoulder, Bethany slipped out of the knife’s path unharmed and readied a spell. She swung her staff forward, smacking Owl-Mask with a wave of force magic. The man flew into the wall, whimpering as he slid down to the floor, unconscious.

While Bethany darted to the crate to check on the egg, Sebastian searched the Colonel’s pockets. He found his signed warrant of payment for one million gold sovereigns in the dwarf’s breast pocket and tore it to shreds.

“Consider our transaction canceled,” Sebastian said, tossing the paper over his shoulder like rubbish. He hit the Colonel once to knock him out. The Vael family fortune was once again safe and intact.

“Sebastian! Come look!”

Bethany beckoned for Sebastian to join her beside the open crate. Inside lay an olive egg with dark speckles. His breath hitched as she gently took his hand by the wrist.

“Feel that?” Bethany guided his hand forward and placed it on the egg shell. A low heat pulsed beneath his palm. “It’s warm,” she said. “This must be real, but just to make sure…” Her hand once again alighted, and she reached down to touch the egg. Sebastian leaned forward as her magic’s light revealed shadowy glimpses of the creature growing within.

Bethany broke into a grin. She rubbed her hand along the egg’s shell, accidentally brushing his fingers. Their hands froze at the contact, then settled down side by side. A tingle ran up Sebastian’s arm and wound around his heart.

“Amazing,” he said.

They looked up at the same time, their noses a hair’s breadth apart. A strand of heat passed between them—something unseen to the eye, but felt in the blood—and they locked eyes. Their faces drew together, but then shifted a safe distance apart as their wits returned to them.

* * *

Leaving the auction house was a far less dramatic affair. Using a key lifted from the Colonel’s pocket, they quietly slipped out the back door while a guard was patrolling the other side of the building.

They retreated to the safety of Sebastian’s hotel suite, this time bursting with happiness and triumph. The griffon egg safe, Starkhaven’s treasury untouched, they had resolved the night’s challenges perfectly, save for one thing floating in the back of Sebastian’s thoughts—what would become of him and Bethany now?

Sebastian opened the double doors leading onto his suite’s balcony and stepped into the night air. The sky was black as a raven’s wing, and the reflections of a thousand stars sparkled upon the city’s vast reflecting pool. There was something about Val Royeaux that made one feel like their most secret, oft-denied desires weren’t so far-fetched. That even the stars themselves were in reach for those who dared chase them. That the romance of legends and novels could be real.

A throat cleared behind him. Bethany stood in the doorway, touching her fingertips together like she had something to say. Adorable, but a little sheepish. Sebastian would miss her when they inevitably parted again—as they always did. He tried to ignore how the thought left him aching and cold.

“Sebastian,” Bethany began, “I wanted to thank you. Again. Honestly, I couldn’t have retrieved the egg without your help. Maker’s breath, I’m going to hatch a _griffon,_ and it’s because of you.”

“You’re talking to the man who bid one million sovereigns on an egg with little provocation,” Sebastian replied with a shrug. “Give yourself some credit.”

“But Sebastian, I misled you. I convinced you to risk your wealth and reputation, dragged you through that,” Bethany waved her hand as she sought the right word, “ _caper_ , and you never doubted me. I can’t put into words just how...”

She looked flushed and overwhelmed all of a sudden, turning quickly and grasping the balcony rail as if to steady herself. Fascinating how a war-weary Warden with such command and ferocity in battle could also become so soft around him, so _muddled._ She couldn’t be searching for a way to ask his forgiveness, could she? As far as Sebastian was concerned, no harm was done so no forgiveness was needed, not from him. Besides, she was far from the only person to act on impulse tonight for less than selfless reasons.

“Bethany,” Sebastian began gently, “if not for you, I would have purchased that egg for myself. That’s why I came here.” He propped his elbows on the balcony rail and glanced up at the stars. “I had it all planned. Which stable I’d keep it in, the kind of saddle I’d use, how often I’d brush its feathers.”

Bethany laughed. “Really? How often would that be?”

“Every night, right after I flew across the stars and waved at my subjects below.”

Sebastian waved as if a sea of cheering Starkhaven citizens were waiting below their intimate Orlesian balcony. Bethany giggled and offered her own little wave to the invisible crowd.

“My point being,” he continued, “my most childish fantasies took over the moment I heard the word ‘griffon.’ My reasons for pursuing the egg were indulgent from the very start. Joining you on your caper, I’ve at least accomplished something good with my selfish intentions.”

Bethany stepped closer to him, almost as close as they had been back in the auction house. Lips parted, her gaze glided across his face. Sebastian recognized the glint in her eyes with a jolt—it was the same expression she wore during the auction, full to the brim with frustration and desire, but tempered with a lingering doubt that what she wanted most might still fade away like a mirage the moment it was close enough to touch. The hairs on the back of his neck and arms rose, his heartbeat stuttered to life, and a new temptation took wing in his soul.

“Was that all it was?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “A good deed?”

“No,” Sebastian said. The threads of desire between them pull taut until he could resist them no longer. “It never was.”

Bethany’s gasp was drowned out by a gust of wind whooshing over their heads. As her dark hair blew back from her shoulders, Sebastian’s face swooped down to catch her lips with his. She surrendered to his kiss with a small moan. He cradled her cheek and traced his thumb over her skin. She reached up to cup the back of his head, her fingers tousling his hair just as the breeze gained new strength. Eyes closed, locked in a tight embrace, the wind’s intense rushing made him feel weightless, as if they had been carried into the air. Leaves swept up from nearby trees danced around them. One dizzying kiss gave way to more, their hearts soaring while their feet held fast to the ground.

They remained on the balcony for some time, kissing, whispering about griffons, counting stars in the heavens, kissing all the more. Time was a gift they had in spades tonight, and neither wished to waste this precious opportunity to act on the tension bubbling between them all along. It was near daybreak when they finally edged inside, still feeling buoyant enough to walk upon the clouds.

Before Bethany departed to rejoin her fellow Wardens, she allowed Sebastian to look at the egg once more. Before Sebastian had felt awed by the sheer legend of the griffon, the great weight of destiny carried on its developing wings. Now, he saw a piece of his own happiness in the egg’s speckled shell. One where Bethany left, but their love would endure.

“The griffon will be big enough to ride in only six months,” Bethany said, touching her hand upon the egg. “I can go almost anywhere in Thedas with little trouble. No distance is that far when you fly. I—I just wish I could take you with me.”

Sebastian planted a kiss on her hairline, feeling warm all over when she sighed and leaned into it. “I’ll wait for you,” he said. “I’ll write, I’ll pray. When you return to me, I’ll show you everything Starkhaven has to offer.”

“Starkhaven?” Bethany tilted her face towards his, and she reached up to cup his cheek. Before drawing him into another kiss, she whispered, “Sebastian, I’ll show you the _world.”_

Their paths might diverge, for a time, but as birds flocked to the same nesting grounds, Sebastian knew Bethany would fly back to him on a griffon’s wing, and all would be well.

**Author's Note:**

> Some fun trivia found in my research!
> 
> 1) Because dwarves sound American in-game, the griffon egg auction is conducted like a North American auction. That means the auctioneer speaks ULTRA FAST to increase pressure and goad buyers into bidding. That method of speaking is called an 'auction chant.' 
> 
> 2) Auctioneers are called 'colonels' in the US, hence the Colonel's signifier. The Colonel's faceclaim is Patton Oswalt.
> 
> 3) That dwarven auctioneering is the "Chant of business" is a reference to a quote from German filmmaker Werner Herzog, who once said auctioneering was the "poetry of capitalism." He created a short documentary about auctioneering called "How Much Wood Would a Woodchuck Chuck."
> 
> 4) "Brother Genitivi's pleated underfrock" is a reference to Bernie Madoff, whose estate auctioned off 14 pairs of his pleated, monogrammed boxer shorts for $200. 
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading!


End file.
